Twas the Night
by AnnaEndedTheWorld
Summary: In response to illusive's "Is Not- Is Too" Challenge. Marty, beyond annoyed with Rory's obliviousness, dares her to kiss Logan - if she really doesn't like him, she won't feel anything. Stupid, stupid Marty... RoryLogan, LaneColin.
1. Handcuff to the bed Hot

Writing this as a way to keep myself sane before GG comes back on.

In response to the "I am Not - You are Too!" Challenge on Marty, self-torturing naked boy that he is, bets Rory that she can kiss Logan and not feel anything. Who knows what that guy is thinking, but it will make a really nice xmas gift for Logan...

And why not create some more drama by throwing Lane, Paris, Finn and Colin into the mix?

Review please -- and for Hannukah, does anyone want to give me Matt Crutzchy as a play thing? Please?

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It was one of those perfect, cold crisp nights. 2 inches of fresh post-Thanksgiving, pre-Christmas snow covered the pavement outside of the movie theatre. The sky was clear, more so than usual was in New Haven. Overall, the perfect night – if you weren't freezing your ass off, that is.

Rory tried to ignore the numbing sensation in her legs (why, oh why did she choose to wear a short skirt today?) and listen to Lane, who was animatedly discussing the movie they had just seen.

"I mean, it was so honest, so painful – that's why it was good. And the music! I mean, I usually don't like that whole folky thing, but Damien Rice is pure genius."

Rory rolled her eyes at her friend. "The play was so much better. I mean, I liked it more than I thought I would, but I actually for once agree with the reviews in the Times. It's just one of those plays that can't be a movie."

Lane stopped and turned to her, aghast, and Rory instantly regretted divulging her opinion before they got to the car. They could be standing here all night. "Did the play have Jude Law in it?

Rory laughed. "No."

Lane, "So then the movie was better. End of story. Anyway, I'm glad you made me drive out here – I was in the mood to see a movie that was made after the end of the Cold War." Furrowing her eyes, she glanced around the parking lot. "Now, where did I park again?"

Rory, turning to look for Lane's beat up Kia, ended up almost nose-to-nose with a smirking Logan. _Oh, this is should be fun. _

"Ace? Or should I say, my future wife? Nice skirt," he added, leering at her in that provocative, yet not rude way of his. Rory tried to ignore the fact that suddenly, she had gotten very, very warm.

Or the attempts her stomach was making to qualify for the 2008 Olympics.

"Logan," she stated calmly. "I'm surprised to see you at something as mundane – and lacking in illegal substances – as a movie. Where are Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum?"

As if on cue, Colin and Finn appeared – Finn surrounded with blondes on both sides. Finn saluted her. "Girls, I don't believe that you've met Logan's fiancé."

Lane, who at first was trying to follow the conversation – wife? illegal substances? -- caught on.

"You must be limo boy. I'm Lane," she said, offering a hand to Logan, storing the fact that not only was he hot, he was handcuff-to-the-bed-and-have-your-way-with-him-in-a-way-that-would-have-Mama-Kim-come-after-you-with-a-shotgun-hot to tease Rory with later.

Logan, rocking back on his heels, extended a hand to her, raising an eyebrow at Rory. "Glad to know that my reputation preceded me."

Rory rolled her eyes and dismissed the comment. "How long did it take to figure it out?" She couldn't help but feel the glee throughout her whole being – she had gotten him back _good_.

Colin moved forward, his eyes sweeping over Lane appreciatively. "About twenty minutes of an aneurism, three hours of debate over whether he should call his parents or not, one hour of guilt over how you would react to this new update, and then five minutes of a confused conversation with his mother. I have to hand it to you, Gilmore – I don't think anyone has gotten him that good, ever. Except for Finn's annual traditional April Fool's joke on us, and that's debatable."

Finn hurried over, leaving the two blondes – who were likely even colder than Rory was -- posing prettily behind him.

"Yeah, good going, Gilmore. I think we might replace you with Logan as our third stooge – you're funnier than he is." Turning to Lane, he grinned. "So what did you think of the movie? I'm Finn, by the way. I'm from down under."

Lane, taking in Finn's hot Australian accent, and the other guy in the sweater's prim attractiveness – he reminded her of Dave -- had a sudden flash back to running her finger's through that guy's hair in high school. Since when did Rory have so many hot friends?

"You say that like it's a good thing," quipped Colin, slightly annoyed with Finn's attentions to the cute Asian girl.

Rory, taking care to not make eye contact with Logan, who for some reason had not spoken in all of this, realized that it was time for introductions. "Colin, Finn – this is Lane, my best friend. Lane, this is Finn – I think for the first time in his life, not drunk. This is Colin, who insulted Marty back in the day."

"Lane – like a road? That people drive on?" On second thought, maybe Finn wasn't sober.

"Astute of you." Logan turned to Rory, his smile growing. Her whole let's-pretend-Logan-doesn't-exist thing was a little too obvious. "What do you say, Ace – how about we say we're even and go get some coffee? You must be freezing."

"Coffee?!" Finn started indignantly, only to be shushed with a look from Colin.

Just as Rory was about to refuse, Lane stepped in. "Sounds good. Where were you thinking of going?" It was time for a little intervention, Lane mused. Logan seemed really into Rory, and from all of Rory's bitching about his actions, he seemed pretty funny and sharp. A non-washout version of Jess, and nothing like Dean, thank the lord. Besides, she needed some entertainment in her life. Things with Zach weren't going so well lately, and Colin seemed like someone she could connect with.

"How about the pub?" Logan smiled, obviously tuned into Rory's lack of enthusiasm. But hey, if Lane wanted to help him out, why not? "Rory knows the way."

Walking off with Colin, Finn, and the two Jessica Simpson look-alikes, he turned and yelled out, "we'll see you there in a few, honey! Don't be late!"

"He always has to get in the last word," muttered Rory, and then turned her wrath on Lane. "What were you thinking?"

"That I want coffee. And that saying he was cute was a _major_ understatement." Spotting her car, she dragged Rory off. "Besides, you know you want to go. Don't play dumb with me – I know you. You're the smart one, remember?"


	2. Marty, your friend Marty?

A/N: So here's chapter 2 (re-uploaded). Also, the movie that LAne and Rory saw was Closer.

Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 2: Marty, your friend Marty?

"Okay, so you have only thirty seconds to explain to me why we've never come here before," Lane turned to Rory after surveying the pub, which, quite aptly, had Blower's Daughter playing in the background, the genius song by the genius musician from the genius movie they had just seen.

"Maybe the fact that we can get great coffee for free a block away from your apartment?" Rory guessed, as they walked over to where Colin, Logan, and Finn sat, heads drawn together. They were obviously arguing over something.

"Nice try – but what about that month that I crashed on the used mattress in your room and tried to keep Paris from killing me with her hot glue gun? Hey guys," Lane greeted the three of them with, as they stood before the table.

"And so it is/ Just like you said it would be/ Life goes easy on me/ Most of the time"

"Ladies!" Logan, giving pointed looks to Colin and Finn, smiled at Lane and Rory. "What happened Ace, you get lost?"

Before Rory could retort and spoil the warm holiday mood, Lane cut in good-naturedly. "No, it just took me a while to convince her that she didn't want to go back to her dorm and work on a paper. And then she tried to over power me at the steering wheel, and so I had to keep us from dying…"

Rory, looking over at Lane, decided enough was enough. Yes, she was here. Yes, she had almost killed them because she had this overpowering fear of spending time with Logan, though she wasn't sure why. Yes, she was glad to be here, though Coffee-gods and other benefactors knew why… But that didn't mean she would keep letting Lane pull the whole I'm-your-best-friend-so-I-can-tell-them-anything game.

"Hey, Mrs. Kim? Did you know that your daughter saw an R-rated movie, verging on pornographic? And afterwards, she is likely going to go back and spend time with her non-Christian, non-Korean, non-future doctor boyfriend?" The three stooges looked between the two of them curiously, though Colin specifically had an unreadable expression on her face. As did Lane.

"Finn, what happened to your women?" Rory asked, changing the subject after having seen the look on Lane's face.

"Aww… we ditched them. They were getting annoying, anyway," Finn was being surprisingly truthful. "Why Gilmore, were you jealous?"

"Extremely." Logan, who had disappeared for a moment to get drinks, returned and placed them in front of Rory and Lane, who had already gotten into an animated conversation with Colin about the evils of the White Stripes – obviously Colin did not agree with her stance that they were pop-punk sellouts.

"By the way, I didn't fully congratulate you on your come-back prank. I honestly never expected you of such things, but I do like being proved wrong." Logan's hand was precariously close to Rory's, but there was no way for her to move hers without it being obvious. Damn the stupid, small table.

"I have to be honest, the look on your face was priceless. Or at least that's what my Grandfather said." Rory smiled, very cat-got-the-canary. It had been priceless.

"How did you rope Richard into it? Without him, it would have failed entirely," he told her, not entirely willing to acquiesce that she had won the round.

"Oh, my Grandfather has a great sense of humor. I think that was the most fun he's had in weeks, actually." Rory smiled, lowering her walls for a moment. Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

Then she took a sip of her drink, and spat it back out. Her eyes narrowed at Logan accusingly, and Colin and Lane looked up, mid conversation (by this point, Finn had passed out).

"Now you're trying to get me drunk? I have work to do tomorrow. What is _wrong_ with you?" Logan, realizing his error – he had given Rory his drink by mistake – tried to calm her down, but by this point she was standing, and wouldn't listen to a word coming from his mouth anyway.

Lane, watching Rory, had another flashback to the days of Satan/Tristan. Rory, of course, was over-reacting because she couldn't own up to her feelings for Logan. Which was fine when they were sixteen and the only person she scared off was Tristan, but wasn't ok when they were twenty and Logan wasn't the kind of guy you want to scare off.

"Excuse us for a second," she said, and, for the second time that night, dragged an angry, stubborn and childish Rory into a corner of the bar.

"Rory, you need to give this whole every-hot-guy is out to get me thing up. Logan's _nice. _He _likes you. _It was probably just a mistake, and if not – since when is alcohol so horrible anyway? It's not like you're the one driving," she pointed out.

Rory looked over at the table, where three interested boys – her shouting must have woken up Finn – watched them: Colin semi-perplexed, Logan half-amused, half-bewildered, and Finn like he had never seen her before.

Maybe she had over-reacted a little. But this would probably be her last opportunity that night to confront Lane about the Zach issue.

"Okay, I'll play nice if you tell me what's going on with Zach," she offered to her friend. Lane, in turn, sighed and leaned against the wall.

"I don't know. I mean… you know how for such a long time, you think you want something, only to finally get it and realize that you don't?" Rory of course, knew this only too well – she had gotten Dean back only to realize that there was nothing there anymore, but two people pretending to be four years younger and recapture something that had faded out long ago. "That's how it is with Zach now. I mean, I really loved Dave. He's the only person I ever _loved_. I just needed someone, and the only people who were around were Zach, and Bryan." At this, both she and Rory laughed.

"And Kirk! I mean, you two would have made a completely adorable couple." Sobering, Rory sighed. "So… you think you're into Colin?"

Lane looked introspective. "I don't know. I mean, from what I've seen so far, he's really different than anyone I've ever known. But at that same time, there's this deep down sweetness that Dave had. Though his music taste _needs _improvement."

"So you could be like the Korean, smart version of Alicia Silverstone in that annoying movie Mom makes me watch with her like, once a month," Rory finished. Well, if Lane liked Colin – though why, Rory couldn't even begin to understand – then far be it for her to work against that. "Sorry to hear about you and Zach though. That must be weird."

Lane grimaced. "You have no idea. I've been avoiding him like Holly Golightly avoided Paul Varjak when she was going to marry the rich Venezuelan."

Heading back to the table, Rory slung her arm around Lane, as much out of solidarity against Logan than in friendship. Once there, she confronted Logan, who sat with a bemused half-smile on his face.

"Huntzberger, I'm willing to call a truce." Rory faced him, feeling slightly better by the fact that for once, she was taller than him – it helped that he was sitting. And slightly drunk.

"Seriously? And spoil the fun?" He was a bit pissed off. What made this girl tick? Why the hell did she get mad at him so easily?

Extending her little finger, she smiled. "How about we pinkie swear on it." She really was willing to call a truce, if only to give Lane a chance for a real relationship. Also, because, as much as she hated to admit it, Logan looked really, really good tonight.

Logan stared at her pinkie finger. "What am I supposed to do, kiss it?"

Rory stared at him in shock. "You've never heard of pinkie-swearing? Where are you from? I mean, I realize you lived on your own little rich-America island, but you still had television, didn't you?" She was so caught up in her new discovery that she didn't notice Lane and Colin had moved to the bar, and Finn was still asleep, leaving her with Logan.

"I didn't watch much television growing up," he offered lamely. "I had better things to do with my time than watch Boy Meets World or whatever was popular with you three years ago." Struck by a thought, he looked at her more closely. "Wait, if you watched television, you had to have procrastinated at least a little in high school, right?" Maybe she was human after all.

"Got it done before hand. And I didn't have a choice on the television thing. My mother was convinced that the three best tools of parenting were 80s bands, TV, and junk food. But what about now – I mean, there are so many great shows on not prime time. Have you seen Dead Like Me?" He shook his head, growing more and more bashful. "Coupling? The Office?" Logan just hung his head. Rory felt like her world had turned upside down. "You haven't seen The Office? How can you survive in this world?"

"I'm just not a TV person," he said, embarrassed. "Though I've been yelled at about my non-The Office-watching person before. My sister also thinks it's a heresy. Then again, she's big on comparing our father to that David guy." Rory just shook her head in amazement. Then, noticing that she and Logan were, for all intents and purposes, alone, she tried not to concentrate on how good he looked.

Logan on the other hand, looked as though he was ready to take advantage of the moment. Standing up, he turned around so that Rory was trapped between him and the table. "So, should we pinkie swear now?"

Rory was about to reply, but was cut off by a loud door swinging. Looking over, she saw Marty watching her, his eyes narrowed. Using the distraction, she escaped from her confinement and walked over to him.

"Hey, you never called me back," she said. "Where've you been?" She hadn't known what to do since their almost fight a week earlier, when they went looking for Anna.

"I left you two messages – one on your cell, and one with your crazy roommate."

Marty, ignoring Logan for a moment, who was watching them with narrowed eyes himself, laughed. "You do realize what you just implied? Because I didn't realize that it could get much crazier than Paris. And I've been busy – as have you, apparently."

Rory shook her head slightly. "Marty, that's not what it looks like. I went with Lane to see Closer – you were right by the way, it was worse than the play – and we bumped into them on the way out. They asked us for coffee, and Lane insisted, so that's how I ended up here."

Marty looked at Logan, who was watching them, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Colin, turning away from Lane for a second, raised his glass in greeting. "Look, it's the bartender! Bartender-boy, how've you been?"

Lane poked him, glaring. "Hey Marty!" She called across the bar, noting the looks that Marty and Logan were giving each other. If she wasn't wrong, things were about to get _extremely _interesting.

Rory, noticing a stack of flyers in Marty's hands, pulled one out. "Our dorm is throwing a Christmas party?" She hadn't heard about this, and wasn't sure if she was in the hostess mood this week.

"No, Allie is." At this, the sleeping Finn's head shot up. "The red head!" He shouted triumphantly. His eyes than zeroed in on Marty, than darted over to Logan, and comprehension dawned. Ahh, so the plot thickens, he thought. Poor Logan looked like steam was going to come shooting out of his ears – though very humerous, someone had to put an end to the tomfoolery.

"When is this gathering?" He asked the group around him, not caring who responded.

Marty looked surprised. Damn, he hadn't expected that. Logan, though, brightened perceptibly.

"Yeah, when is this? We're big on parties, aren't we, Ace?" he stressed the nickname meaningfully. Marty-the-bartender had nothing on him.

"Umm… sure, you guys can come. It's on Friday." Marty thrust the flyers into Rory's hands. "Look can you put these up? I'll call you later." He refused to look her in the eyes – it was too late probably_. Ace_, apparently, was taken.

The door swung closed, leaving the five standing there, silently.

Lane, beating Finn to it, broke the silence. "Well, I guess I'll see you guys on Friday then. Ror, I'm beat – let's go." Rory, who stood, looking at the flyers in shock, had, once again, to be dragged by a plotting Lane back over to her chair, where she relinquished the flyers ("We'll take care of the PR" assured Colin. "That scares me," muttered Rory, still in her confused haze.) put on her coat, and followed Lane out the door.

"It was nice meeting you guys," Lane called out the door, Rory in tow.

The door swung shut, leaving the three guys looking at each other.

"Maybe we should stick to parties," said Finn. "Whose idea was it to see a movie, anyway?"

Colin, who was watching Logan with concern, could only reply with, "Yours, Aussie. Come on, let's get out of here. We were supposed to call Steph ages ago, anyway."


	3. Would you rather?

Chapter 3: Would you rather...?

Thursday morning was nowhere near perfect. It was cold, much colder than it should be, unless…

"Paris!" Rory called out of the room, even though she knew she was risking the last energy she had.

"What?" Paris appeared in the doorway, wearing a – tunic?! "You're interrupting meditation. I'm trying to get in touch with my chi, and I can't do that with you yelling at me, Gilmore."

Rory groaned, pulling the three comforters she had heaped on her bed over her chin. "What are you _wearing_? And did you have to turn off the heat?"

"My yogi says that to truly experience spiritual awakening, you must remove all outside comforts. And Doyle told me to expand my religious horizons in my article, after a _really _hot night of –"

Rory shot up in bed, forgetting the cold for a moment. "No, no, no. No. No. There will be no talk of you, and Doyle, and the things that you do that makes him be in your bathrobe." She sighed and huddled back under the covers. "So, no heat."

"No heat."

"Paris?" Even muffled, the voice was very angry.

"What?"

"The heat goes back on. NOW."

"Really Gilmore, where's your sense of adventure? You know nothing about suffering. No wonder your spiritual self is still comatose." Paris walked out of the room.

Rory waited for the heat to come on, pondering over Paris's comment. Granted, Paris's idea of adventure – sleeping with a professor and their really dorky editor – were very different from Rory's, but still – did she really always play it safe? Was Logan right?

Reaching blindly, she grabbed her phone and pressed speed dial one.

"Hello and welcome to the IHONC, the International House of no coffee. Press one if you are my boyfriend/ provider of my very existence. Press two if you are my long lost daughter, other than my annoying daughter who never calls her mother any more –"

"You are the only person I know who cannot just say hello. Your other, illegitimate long lost daughter would probably have been scared away," commented Rory from under her blankets.

"So, how's limo boy? Any 411 you got for me? Because seriously, this whole my father being the one to play the prank on him instead of me thing is making me feel pretty insecure."

"Well, go cry about it to your other, long lost daughter. It would never have worked if you had tried it Mom – first of all, you wouldn't have been able to stop laughing. Umm yeah, there's been some gossip with Logan – but first, let me thaw out my hands. Paris is trying to connect to her inner yogi or something, so she decided to turn all of the heat off."

"Well, things must have been pretty hot and heavy with Doyle." There was much too much glee in Lorelai's voice as she sing-songed his name.

"I'm sorry – but you cannot torture me with that one. I just can't get his hairy legs in her robe out of my head!"

"I wonder what is worse – seeing Doyle, or bumping into the late Asher Fleming in her robe."

"Mom, he's dead! And do you want to turn your only daughter into an anorexic? Because honestly, with that thought in my head, I'll never be able to eat again."

Lorelai, opening her cupboard again in the hopes that somehow, magically, coffee had appeared – nope, no fun coffee fairies today – gasped in mock horror.

"Don't try to distract me with such horrible thoughts. I raised you to be a good, non healthy eater. Anyway, what's the haps with Logan?"

Rory sighed. "Well, so he figured out the whole joke part. I bumped into him last night after seeing Closer with Lane."

"Better or worse than the play? And how incredibly hot was Jude Law? Too hot to bring Luke too?"

"I think it's too graphic for Luke to see. Well, anyway, apparently Tweedle-dee –"

"Your other suitor," Lorelai quipped.

"Yeah, Colin – is pretty attractive to Lane. And attracted to her. So I ended up getting dragged – a lot, may I tell you – I think my arm is going to fall off – off to the pub with them."

"Damn, I can't picture Logan. I think I'm going to google him and see if I find anything."

"Says the woman who told me that googling is the new millenium's version of stalking."

"I told you, I need to see what my future son-in-law looks like!" Unable to withhold it any longer, a snicker made its way past Lorelai's mouth.

"Was that a cackle? I'm sorry, but if you make fun of me anymore, that's it. Grandpa gets all the dish from now on."

"You are an evil, buttfaced miscreant." Okay, full on laughter now. Rory, though finally warm, was getting a little pissed.

"Okay, you need to let that one go. What he did was –"

"Hilarious?" Damn. Now there were no Malomars left, which left Lorelai with nothing else to eat. What was the world coming to?

"I was going with obnoxious."

"I wish I would have been there – I mean, both of them, professing their love for you in class? Fighting? And then the Aussie all dressed in Scotland Yard garb? It makes me regret choosing Connecticut Community College over Yale." Lorelai sighed dramatically.

"Well, anyway – last night I called a truce with Logan, and then…"

"Wild bears swooped down and ate you all?"

"Close. Marty walked in."

"Ohhhh." Lorelai sighed, deciding not to point out the obvious to her daughter, who seemed to be blind to the obvious parts of life when it had to do with those of the xy chromosome.

"Yeah – I don't know why he's so upset about this. I mean, first of all, Logan doesn't like me."

"Of course." Somehow, Rory missed the sarcasm.

"Secondly, I don't like Logan." Okay, Queen of da- Nile.

"Obviously."

"And thirdly, why does Marty even care?" Wow. For a smart girl, she sure was dumb sometimes.

"Beats me. Maybe you should have Colin barge into his class and tell him he's in love with him. And then have the Aussie ask him to give back his, his…" full on laughter now.

"See, this is why Grandpa is better. Anyway, Marty is having a party, and the three stooges invited themselves along – it's tomorrow night, so I'm going to have to get out of dinner."

"What, and leave me behind with my parents? Ohhhh no. I'm either coming with you to the college party, or you'll have to leave Marty and Logan to some other girl." Silence on the other line. Lorelai pouted, even though she knew Rory couldn't see her. "I'll call Grandma and see if we can do it earlier. See you tomorrow night."

"You too. Love you."

"Love you more than Colin does." With that final quip, they hung up. Rory's eyes narrowed… was that? Nooo.

Dragging her comforters behind her, she ventured out into the common room, where Logan stood, watching Paris do the sun pose.

"Rory!" Paris, now in what was called upward dog, but looked more like The Little Mermaid, glared at her. "I guess you have some annoying friends who have decided to come visit, and interrupted me in my quest for calm."

"Seems like you have pretty far to go," Logan commented as Rory turned to face him.

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Uh oh… CLIFF HANGER!! Don't you just hate me? I'll update tomorrow.


	4. If the hot boy jean fits

A/N: Sorry for the hiatus – I realize that it was very WB-like of me (AKA: so unfair), but well… I've been out of town. And busy. And sick. And deferred from Brown.

Anyway, here's the next chappy – what y'all have been waiting for.

Applause and reviews, please.

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Good Lord, he was wearing hot boy jeans.

Once upon a time, about four years back when Abercrombie and Fitch had introduced their models on bags campaign, Lorelai the second introduced Lorelai the third to the greatness that was an attractive man in faded, low slung jeans and a white, fitted t-shirt.

Though at times Dean had dressed like that, it never had the same effect – he was too sweet to be, well… hot. And Jess disdained anything mass-culture, so there went that.

It really, really wasn't fair, Rory pleaded to herself. He was an asshole. Why did cocky, massively, over-privileged assholes get to look so good?

It didn't help that he was grinning like he knew what she was thinking. It also didn't help that at some point between the time she had seen him in hot-boy jeans and now, Paris had abandoned her to him.

"What do _you_ want?"

"Now, is that the way to treat your former spouse, as well as someone who obviously is the bearer of fantastic news?"

Rory, adapting the Gilmore version of the warrior pose, stood arms crossed over her chest, barring the way into her room. She glared at him.

"Huntzberger, when you bear something, it rarely is good."

Logan grinned. "Anyone ever tell you you're extremely cute when your hair is sticking straight up?" And in pajamas with clouds all over them, he added silently.

Rory resisted tugging on her hair, and instead tried to force her glare to be more menacing. "Whatever it is, Huntzberger, just tell me now. I have a really hot date with my bed, and he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Tell him you'll have to take a rain check." With that, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her room, with her mouth gaping open.

Outside in her dorm's hallway/courtyard, Rory finally got her voice back as he continued to drag her through Yale's cold, white pastures.

"What the hell do you think that you're doing? I'm freezing, and in pajamas. And not going anywhere with you right now."

He stopped for a moment, and turned. "Look, the way I see it, there is a warm room, right there," he pointed to the Student Center, "where we can get coffee and I can tell you the good news. This way, you can't waste the rest of your day sleeping, and then bow out of your own party Friday night because you have "work to do. Or," he continued, bending down and looking at her a little bit in that charming little boy way of his, "you can stand here, by yourself, debating over whether or not you want to come get coffee with me, freeze your ass off, and then finally decide to come in, by which point, I will be warm and happy and likely not in the mood to tell you something I know you will want to know. So, what's it gonna be, Ace? I promise I won't bite."

What's it gonna be? Why did he always seem to be asking her that question? And what's more, why was she considering even spending time with him?

At that exact moment, a gust of wind blew the way through her pajamas. On the other hand, coffee didn't seem so horrible – it was the lesser of the two evils after all.

"Fine, but you're buying."

If only Rory had stop to check on what pajamas she was wearing. But, like they say, hindsight is 20/20.

With that, Rory ran the last dozen or so yards with Logan into the cafeteria, where they collapsed onto two big comfy chairs in the corner. Breathing heavily, she tried to ignore the big snowflake that had managed to attach itself to his lip as he sat there, smiling at her.

"What are you doing? Go. Coffee," she ordered, trying to ignore how easy it was with him, albeit her overheated hormones. She remembered the disappointed, angry look on her mother's face when she came home drunk that night, and the same, disappointed, angry look on Marty's face when he had seen her at the pub the night before. Curling up, she brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, continuing the silent debate she was having with herself. She couldn't be friends with an asshole like that. Also, she probably shouldn't trust him – he was just going to pull another prank, and embarrass her, or something…

"Rory?" Marty stood there staring at her, looking confused and like he was trying not to laugh. "Is it pajama day, or did I miss something?" He added, plopping down in the seat next to her – Logan's seat she reminded herself, trying to figure out how she could get rid of him before Logan got back. Things with her and Marty had been tense enough, and last night hadn't helped – if Marty saw them together again, he might get the wrong idea.

"Don't ask," she advised. Wait… pajamas… oh. No. no.

Looking down, she saw the offending pjs she had put on the night before – a pre-Yale gift from her mother two years back. Color flooded to her face. Of all the things in the world… no wonder why he wanted to take her for coffee. He probably had planned this somehow – he would abandon her here, and then Professor Bell would come walking by, and then she would have the reputation not only as being a "ball-stealer" but as someone who cared so little about school they wore little kid pajamas around campus.

"Anyway… what are you up to tonight? I was thinking we could decorate the dorm together," he offered – a white flag if there ever was one.

"Give me a second – I'm trying to figure out where the big hole is that can swallow me up," she said, getting a laugh out of him. For a moment, it was like everything was back to normal between them – no awkwardness, no anger, no stupid blonde, hot-boy jeans wearing, cocky, buttfaced miscreants who got joy out of tormenting her…

On his cue, Logan appeared with two coffee cups. "Here you are, Ace. I got you a latte – I figured it befitted your outfit…" with that he trailed off, staring at Marty-the-bartender. Why was this guy freakin' everywhere?

Marty stared back at him, his jaw working. With that, he rose, not speaking, and turned to walk away.

"Marty, wait…" but he just kept walking.

Rory, her face now tomato-red in color, rose and faced Logan. "What is WRONG with you?"

Why did this girl get angry about every little thing?

"You need to chill, Ace. I didn't say anything to him – don't blame me for this one. I hardly even know the guy."

"That's exactly the point – it's like you don't even want to get to know someone if it doesn't suit your weird, perverted purposes – either they can do something for you, or they just exist so that you can embarrass them and mess with their heads for entertainment!"

"Oh, come on, Rory, stop being such a prude." Somewhere in the back of her head, Rory recognized that it was the first time he had ever used her real name. "I didn't make you leave your dorm in those pajamas, and as things go, they really aren't that bad. Stop being so scared of every damn experience – no amount of book sniffing will give you the adventure that interesting people experience, that real writers create for themselves. Take a chance on something – I've seen you do it and you love it, don't deny it. Stop trying to label me as one of those arrogant cocky asses you knew in high school just to keep your world safe and the lines unblurred. Real life doesn't work that way."

The two stood there, glaring at each other, not realizing that they had drawn a crowd. The chemistry between them was crackling and everyone gathered around, wondering what Logan Huntzberger was doing yelling at the cute little brunette. Since when did he go for brunettes, anyway?

"Oh, and you call your life real life? You create these elaborate games and pranks, crash a yacht across the world somewhere and expect Daddy to save you? Some of us worked really hard to be here – we didn't have life handed to us on a silver platter like you. I've said it before, Logan – we are very different people."

With that, Rory stormed off, not caring how ridiculous she looked in her pajamas, forgetting her coffee entirely.

But as she opened the door into the frigid winter – she was too angry to notice the cold – she could still hear the arrogant bastard's voice in her head.


	5. Let my people go!

A/N: So I wrote this chapter last night, but when I clicked on submit… it disappeared. Which means, since I hadn't saved it, I had to start over from scratch today. The original was much better, and I apologize for this second, substandard version. This is why I hate technology, and I'm declaring a war on the internet.

Also, as a second note – unintentionally, this part of the fic kind of turned into a song fic. However, it is Damien Rice, so in my mind, its not only excusable, but neccesairly.

Thirdly, once again I have Logan in jeans in this scene. In my opinion, the three stooges fashion sense is a bit too much Queer Eye meets Stepford for my taste.

Fourthly, review. I think, after writing this chapter twice, I deserve it. So please… even if you have a "flame", review. Review. Review….

I'll stop rambling now.

* * *

It really truly sucked when all you wanted to do was stand in a corner, sulk, and bitch to your mom, but instead you were forced to play semi-host for a party for a bunch of your fine, fancy free and frolicking peers.

Rory contemplated this idea as she stood in the hallway near her door – in the exact spot where this whole crapola confusion started with Logan in the first place – watching all the happy, flirting people have fun around her.

Speaking of the man in question, she hadn't seen him anywhere. Finn and Colin were both here, but Finn was drunk and never recognized her, anyway, and Colin was… well, actually, Rory was avoiding both of them. Just like Marty was obviously avoiding her. And to make matters worse, that stupid Damien Rice song was playing again. That song was haunting her.

_And so it is  
The shorter story  
No love, no glory  
No hero in her sky_

She really, really hated the world sometimes. Where was Lane? She was supposed to have shown up half an hour ago. Where was Paris?

"You were flirting with her!"

There was Paris.

"I was not! All I did was ask for a beer?" Doyle hurried to catch up, as Paris, for all of her denials of being a practicing a Jew, exhibited a very Moses-like talent of parting the crowd.

"Oh, please. Since when do you drink? It was clearly a mating ritual."

"I wasn't flirting with her!" By now, everyone had stopped doing what they were doing to watch the show. Rory didn't blame them; if you didn't live with it 24-7, then Paris was kind of like the circus freak on a vaudeville show.

"I could practically see the mental fucking! I wouldn't be surprised if the line turned pink tomorrow." Paris whirled on him, raging. She obviously didn't seem to mind the fact that she had an audience – but then again, it was Paris.

"Paris, you're being ridiculous?"

"Oh, I'm being ridiculous? Go back to your pregnant girlfriend, you hobbit." Somewhere in the back of Rory's angry, sulking mind, she decided it would be an interesting experiment to measure which of the two had more steam coming out of their ears.

Doyle froze. "You, you, you…" he stood there spluttering… then, in one quick, awkward and beyond comprehendible moment, they were kissing passionately.

They stopped for a second, panting.

"My room?" Offered Doyle.

"Too far." With that, Paris pulled him with her towards their door, as a shocked Rory stood watching. "Don't come back tonight," she told her, and then the door slammed shut, leaving a semi-bemused Rory and a wholly bemused party outside.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwww. Just… eeeeeeeeeewwww.

"That's something you don't see every day," a voice commented. Rory turned and smiled tentatively at Marty, who stood there with two cups of beer in his hands, an obvious peace offering from one mostly-non-drinker to the next.

"Actually, I do see that every day." She shivered a bit at the memory of Doyle in Paris's robe.

_And so it is  
Just like you said it should be  
We'll both forget the breeze  
Most of the time_

Marty smiled, a little. "You look good." She did, she really did. Too bad that she was, apparently, taken. With that, his expression soured.

Rory, for once not entirely oblivious to those of the XY chromosome (a debate she and her mother had gotten into that night at dinner, when she had accused her of liking Logan – much to Emily's apparent approval – and being too scared to admit it. Lorelai gave up early on – she had obviously realized long ago to accept her daughter's Queen-of-da-Nile-ness. But Rory WASN'T thinking about that right now because it wasn't true) realized what he must be thinking about.

"Marty, it wasn't what you thought it was."

_And so it is  
The colder water  
The blower's daughter  
The pupil in denial_

"Oh, really." He laughed, but there was a darkness in there that Rory didn't even want to contemplate. "So he just happened to have two coffees and you just happened to be waiting for him?"

Rory sighed, exasperated. "No! I mean… he stopped by, he dragged me outside, he said he had something to tell me… I didn't want to be there. Do you think I planned to wear those pajamas in public?"

Marty shook his head, rolling his eyes. How dense was she? "Admit it. He likes you. And you like him, don't you." It wasn't a question, but Marty was begging for her to deny it.

Rory froze, remembering her mother's closing comment to her before she drove off that night…. What are you so afraid of?

Marty laughed again, this time so bitterly that even Rory couldn't hide from it. "Couldn't even deny it, could you?! Admit it – you like that arrogant son of a bitch."

At that moment, something in Rory just snapped. Marty's accusation was the proverbial last straw on top of her failed attempt with Dean, her unfaced guilt over it, her anger with her father, Logan, her grandparents unability to let her live her own life, her fear that she would never make it in journalism, Logan…. And now this?

So, Rory, using the wisdom of her mother's tendency to act like a 3 year old when she was angry and confused and didn't have a comeback, responded as best as she could.

"Do not!"

Marty was completely taken aback. What the hell??? How was he supposed to respond to that? Who was this girl, really?

The cuteness of that moment was spoiled by the emergence of a blonde head in the crowd… attached, of course, to a body. A body that, if Marty wasn't such a pansy (yes, he knew he was), he would have no problem causing physical harm to. Logan, surrounded by his two cronies and a cute blonde girl, stood across the way, chatting easily with his friends. Except, though no one else would have noticed it, Marty could tell that he was searching for someone. His eyes landed on Rory, and then moved over, connecting with his own. Marty felt his frustration mount as they fell into a battle, daring the other to break eye contact first.

_I can't take my eyes off you…._

Looking back, Marty would blame the following events on the alcohol he had held in his hand (an attempt to make Rory not think of him as so safe). Even though he hadn't had a sip of beer, he must have gotten drunk by association. Otherwise, he rationalized, there was no way to explain his actions. Well, other than the fact that he was masochistic, self-destructive, and just plain so crazy about Rory Gilmore to the point that he himself had gone crazy.

"Prove it."

Now it was Rory's turn to look at him like he was the crazy one. "What?"

"I said, prove it. Here's your chance to prove you don't like him. He just walked in."

_I can't take my eyes off you…_

Rory looked over her shoulder, and saw Logan standing there, laughing at something that Stephanie had just said. Marty caught that look – she might not admit to it, but there was jealousy written all over her face.

Turning back to him, she sighed. If there was a way to prove to him – and to her, that she didn't like Logan, than everything could go back to normal.

"How can I prove this to you?"

"I dare you to go up and kiss him." As Rory stared at him in shock and horror only paralleled by seeing Cujo for the first time, Marty continued. "If you can just kiss him… kiss him and walk away, than I'll know that you don't like him."

If Lorelai had been there, she could have warned him not to dare a Gilmore. Too late.

_Did I say that I loathe you?  
Did I say that I want to  
Leave it all behind?_

"Fine." Rory grabbed the beer out of his hands and downed it all in one gulp. Though she never would admit it, she wasn't only doing this to prove to Marty that she didn't like Logan. She wasn't even only doing it to prove to Logan that she took risks. She… whatever.

Marching over to where he stood, she exchanged a hello with Stephanie, who, unbeknownst to her, had been watching her curiously the entire time.

"Whose that guy you were with? He's cute, in a whole Cory Matthews kind of way." Rory just smiled at that, but turned to Logan.

"What happened to your friend… Road? Street?" Finn, though drunk, obviously remembered who she was this time. That was an improvement.

"Lane," supplemented Colin. Though Rory knew Colin was looking for her friend, she had bigger, and more annoying, fish to fry.

"I'm surprised to see you away from a book," he commented – but the comment was meant to tear. Which it did.

Looking over, Rory saw Marty mouth "Do too." With that, she pushed forward, and awkwardly grabbed Logan's shoulders, pulling him down to her in a harsh kiss.

_I can't take my mind off of you…_

It took him a few moments to register what was going on. Rory Gilmore was kissing him. Albeit awkwardly… and he could taste the alcohol on her. And, though his reputation would say otherwise, he wasn't one for kissing in public. Still, Rory Gilmore was kissing him. Never one to waste an opportune moment, he moved closer to her, deepening and softening the kiss at the same time.

Rory registered somewhere in the back of her mind that this wasn't what Marty had in mind. But Logan kissed so differently than anyone else she had ever kissed. Dean was so sweet. Jess was so angry. Tristan was… well, Tristan was Tristan. But this… this was different… this was… no longer a dare.

_I can't take my eyes off of you…_

Logan pulled away, running one hand through his hair while the other still held onto her waist.

"Well." It seemed pretty adequate to him.

Rory froze. Suddenly, she had become the main show – Paris and Doyle had been demoted to the opening act. She stared at him, with a deer-in-headlights look in her eyes. Then, she turned, and did the only thing she knew how to do in this situation.

_I can't take my mind… my mind… my mind…_

After all, even though Marty had said walk away – running was basically the same thing, wasn't it? Just a little faster.


	6. The Best Songs are the Ones with Only On...

A/N: Reasons why Rory has it better off than me, and doesn't deserve this fic:

She has a car. I, thanks to my wise, wise parents, who decided to sell me my mom's ten year old mazda, no longer do. She has Logan Huntzberger. I have a pissy, sulking ex-boyfriend, and a boy who is two years younger than me, but doesn't seem to understand the problem with this. She has Yale. I have deferred from Brown, and finals. She has coffee. I have parents who have decided to switch everyone in this family to decaf....

But blech, I wrote it, so read it. Also, important note: For those of you who haven't heard, Dead Like Me -- the other epitome of my existence, other than GG, has been axed by showtime. If you like GG, trust me, you'll love DLM. DLM has approached the WB, and the execs are considering taking the show on. Please, please! check out the show , or the forums, and help write letters to the WB to take the show. It's just a click away... and if you do that, I won't be hurt if you don't review. hell, if you only have a certain amount of time, help DLM -- don't review. My ego can take it.

Anyway on with the show!

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**Chapter 6: The Best Songs are the Ones with Only One Word (AKA: Ballad of an Idiot)**

If it had taken Logan awhile to register that Rory was kissing him, it took him about three times as long to realize that she was gone. Of course, it was in fact, true. Where she had stood just a second ago, there was air. Just air.

Hmmmmmm.

Well, now, instead of air, there was very petite Korean girl in fishnets.

Lane had finally made it.

She was slightly out of breath, and shivering – after all, it was winter, and she was in fishnets. What was it with girls and not wearing weather appropriate outfits? And what was with girls who kissed you and then ran off?

"Well, I saw the kiss. I have no idea what let up to it. But don't worry – running away is a good sign. She's been doing that since we were sixteen." Logan defended himself, not understanding the lack of blame in her voice.

"She instigated it! I was just… an innocent bystander."

A somewhat ladylike snort came in the general vicinity to his left. "Hi, I'm Stephanie – I'm assuming you're Road/Street?" At Lane's look of confusion, she explained herself. "Finn was drunk."

Lane, looking up, saw a bemused expression on the drunk Australian's face, and Colin. Colin, who was the reason she was so late – she had changed about six times, which led to questions from Zach on where she was going, which led to an argument about preppy parties and how they were part of The Man's plan and entirely anti-rock and roll, which led to arguments about the definition of rock and roll… which led to her having been an hour late. But there he was, that guy she had been thinking about, on and off, for the past week. Once again, in a sweater vest. But then again, she liked guys in sweater vests – Dave had worn them all the time.

Stay on topic, Lane – you have a job. Do your job.

"Wait, so what exactly happened?"

Logan ran another hand through his hair again, groaning. "She came up to me. I was surprised, because she had basically bitched me out yesterday. I think I made a comment about her and books, and then the next thing I know…" his voice trailed off.

"And now she's gone." It was a statement, entirely unsurprised. Actually, the tone made him suspicious. Why was she not surprised by Rory's actions?

"And now she's gone. Is there something I don't know?"

Lane, who had been about to respond, stopped – her eyes catching a tall, dark haired boy running off in the general direction that Rory had gone in.

"Apparently there's something that neither of us know. But I have a feeling someone does." At her comment, Logan turned as well, and saw bartender Marty (AKA: current largest pain in the ass) following Rory. Rory, who had kissed him. Who was being followed by another boy. Who might kiss her. Who…

Logan went through his options. 1) He could get really, really drunk. Hook up with a blonde. 2) He could get really, really drunk. Run after Marty, try to beat him up, and make Ace hate him even more. 3) He could use this girl who was standing next to him. She obviously had information. She knew what made the-strange-confound-one (his new name for Rory) tick.

"Ok. What do I do?"

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Fucking idiot. Fucking, fucking, fucking idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot…

These were the thoughts that ran through Marty's head as he stood in the middle of the courtyard outside of their dorm, trying to figure out where Rory had gone off to. What was wrong with him? Why would he ask her to kiss another guy? What was next – he would dare her to sleep with Logan? Marry him?

And her running away was not a good sign. He knew there was no way of him taking it as her following his instructions. Nope. Not at all.

The idiot surveyed the area, trying to think. She had a car – would she go to Stars Hollow? Try to find Lane? Hide out at the newspaper office? Her rich grandparents?

He was running out of options. He could try her cell phone, except then he'd have to go back to the party, where the object of her affections was. Damn.

Idiot. Idiot. Id –

Rory stood, staring at the moon. Maybe that's what it was – the full moon, it made her do really crazy things. Wasn't there a full moon the night she slept with Dean? Moonstakes, they were moonstakes.

She was going a little crazy. No, scratch that – she was turning into how she imagined Sylvia Plath was right before she tried to bake a cake with her own head. The worst part was, was that if she killed herself right now, she wouldn't be remembered through history as Rory Gilmore, the writer who killed herself, but instead Rory Gilmore, the stupid girl that was so out of touch with herself that she killed herself after kissing a guy that she liked, but was supposed to hate.

"Hey." She whirled around on Marty. Him. Now there was someone she could hate very easily right now.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you dare me to do that?! Happy now?!"

Whoah… maybe this was a bad time. Which was funny, because there was no other time to do this.

"I'm sorry." Bashful, conceding. After all, he was just as hurt right now as she was – probably more so, unless Logan was more of an idiot then him, and didn't come after her.

She slumped down on the bench she had been so excited to show Anna. Not the famous one, but the other one. "Why?" It was softer now, but still plaintive.

"I don't know," he admitted softly, sitting next to her on the –FREEZING- cold bench. He looked at her, staring into space. "Why did you run?" Not that he didn't already know the answer.

"Because you dared me to." Looking over to him, she shrugged, laughing a little. "Ok… I guess its just what I do." He gave her a look. Which was appropriate, seeing as she never ran. "In these situations," she amended.

"But I was right. You do like him." It wasn't as bitter or angry or accusing as it was when he had said it to her earlier that night. Just sad.

"I guess." They both stared forward now, Marty wishing that he could be someone else but resigning himself to his fate – he would either always be her friend, or he would be nothing. Rory glared at the melting sludge that had been perfect snow a few nights before, but now was nothing more than a perfect mess. She wasn't sure if she wanted it to melt or to snow, but she knew she was waiting. For something.

She peeked over at Marty, who was staring resolutely forward. Maybe tonight could be a first – even if she wasn't going to break the cycle of running from kisses, maybe she could break the cycle of avoidance. Give up her queenship, or something. Confront her demons. Switch to decaf. Yeah, right.

Taking a deep breath, she took a chance. Both Lorelai and Logan would have been proud. "Do you like me?"

Marty, surprised by this new, honest Rory, could only answer the same way. "Would you believe do not?" It wasn't said weakly, just teasingly. What could he do? She knew now. She wasn't interested, but at least no one could call him a coward. An idiot maybe. But not a coward.

"Hey, I reserve the right to act like a four year old." Sobering, she placed her hand over his. "I'm sorry. Maybe if I had known a long time ago…" but they both knew that this wasn't true.

Marty shrugged. "Hey, shit happens." But he squeezed her hand back.

"Still friends?"

"Still friends." He cleared his throat. "Just… don't tell me anything about him, ok? I don't want to have to hear about it." Rory bit her lip, not saying anything. It was time to walk away now, he told himself. Let her figure stuff out for herself. Time to walk away, and give up this year long crush. Maybe even meet someone else.

With that he stood, removing his hand from under hers.

"You're going?"

He shrugged, realizing it wouldn't be that easy to get over her. In one too many ways, she was perfect.

"Yeah… I kind of feel like walking around for a bit."

"Lunch tomorrow?"

"Sound good." With that, he walked off, leaving her staring in front of her, waiting for the snow to melt. Or fall down. She still wasn't sure.


End file.
